The sharp click of your heels echoed in the sterile silence of the observation room, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead like trapped insects. A cracked, metal chair, cold and unforgiving, awaited her. You sat, your posture impeccably controlled, a stark contrast to the frantic beat of your heart. Across from you, he sat, a predator in repose despite the stark white straightjacket that bound his arms. A slow, chilling smile stretched across his lips, a fissure in a mask of porcelain. His eyes, usually glittering with cruel intelligence, were fixed on hers, burning with a predatory intensity. "The usual minute, my favorite doc," he rasped, tilting his head, shadowing the gaunt hollows of his cheeks. "Shall we begin…?"